


falling awake

by ninemoons42



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Worship, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, Fingerfucking, M/M, Rimming, Silence Kink, Sleepy Sex, Telepathy, top!Charles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2012-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-12 23:09:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninemoons42/pseuds/ninemoons42





	falling awake

title: falling awake  
author: [](http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**ninemoons42**](http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/)  
word count: approx. 2075  
andom: X-Men: First Class [movieverse]  
characters: Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr  
rating: NC-17  
notes: If I went and talked about the reasons why I had this idea in the first place, it'd be TMI. So let's just say, I wanted to write something for myself, with these specific ideas of sleepiness and feelings and consent and Charles on top. Thanks to the Twitter folks and the ladies in the #xmentales chatroom for the encouragement and support.

  
Charles wakes up to an odd sensation in his head, a strange rolling mix of _need_ and _wish_ and _please_ and he’s confused at first, because that sounds more like the things that he would be thinking in the middle of the night.

Except that he’s quite sure he never thinks of those things in such a desperate way.

Swimming up through the haze between sleeping and waking, reaching out with hands and his mind alike – being careful to ask permission, of course, because Erik is Erik and that means he will always be of two minds about Charles’s abilities – Charles touches the warmth of Erik’s shoulder, tensed and straining the material of his shirt. _Erik?_

Some days the response to that is a surging kind of welcome, and some days the response to that is the crash of shields being raised and strengthened.

Tonight, he’s met with a long silence, and then something so very small that Charles is nearly woken up all the way in trying to catch it, and it is nearly immediately lost in the roiling mess of Erik’s sleep-edged thoughts: _Please?_

 _Please what,_ Charles thinks, and he’s still unraveling around the edges, all except for Erik’s thoughts still in his head.

He opens his eyes just in time to watch Erik roll onto his stomach with a groan, hastily stifled in the pillows.

_I can’t – I want to ask, don’t know how. Charles, please._

And then he receives the image that Erik flashes at him, more than enough to wake him up completely, even as his body starts to take an active interest in that possibility.

Held down. Submitting. Ceding control.

These are things Charles is familiar with, in the very physical sense.

But he’s not being asked to do any of those things right now. Erik’s position is the first clue.

Charles holds his breath, and whispers, “Are you sure?”

The answer comes swiftly. _I am._

And Erik still has not uttered a word all throughout, and finally, Charles gets it.

So he resorts to silence, too – to reassurance, and to acquiescence, and to his own desire. _All right. Mm. Come here into the middle of the bed?_

Erik moves as if on puppet’s strings; Charles yawns, and pretends to move aside slowly, though they both know that his mind is now wide awake and churning through all the things he could do, all the things Erik wants him to do.

Something that is a bit too much like longing squeezes at Charles’s heart with piercing sharpness, but he carefully keeps that out of his thoughts, keeps that out of the contact he initiates: a firm hand on Erik’s back, moving up and down over the bumps and ridges of his backbone.

He coaxes and soothes, and with every pass Erik seems to sink into the pillows, and Charles thinks fond thoughts at him, until Erik sighs – almost reluctantly – and sprawls out, completely boneless and yielding.

Only for now, and Charles is painfully conscious of it, but he keeps a tight lid on his feelings and leans over, rests his forehead against Erik’s nape. Braces himself on the hand he had been using to touch Erik. His quiet breaths stirring dark hair, making Erik shiver.

 _That – that feels nice,_ Erik thinks at him.

Charles is touching him, so he also gets the rest of what Erik is feeling: vulnerability and a fear of it.

Now that just won’t do, and Charles swings himself right onto Erik’s body, sitting nearly in the small of his back, and there is a spike of arousal burning red afterimages behind his eyes and he knows it’s his and he knows it’s Erik’s too, and Charles takes advantage.

One hand is still between Erik’s shoulders; the other he sinks into Erik’s hair, gripping just on this side of tight and painful, and he says, an even and gentle command, _There is no place or time for shame. Not here and not now. Let it go. For me._

_Or you’ll –_

_Or I’ll stop,_ Charles says, as easily as though it were true.

He watches a shudder pass through Erik’s frame, and he moves with the deep breath that Erik takes, and he smiles when Erik says it again – _Please_ – and he sends that approval along.

 _Now tell me what you want. Or show me if you can’t put it into words. I want your consent, and I want you to give it to me freely, and if you decide that this is not what you want we will stop and you will have my apologies_ – and Charles stops himself when he looks down, just in time to see Erik turn his head and show him the slow, deliberate smile quirking up a corner of his mouth.

_I understand consent, Charles. And I give it to you. I give it with everything I have right now._

_Oh,_ Charles says, and he laughs quietly and he is relieved when Erik laughs too. _Then you’ve got mine, too. And now I just have to think about how and where and what...._

He can’t help himself, then. It starts with a kiss to the back of Erik’s neck – Erik arches up into him, and Charles holds him down by the shoulders even as he opens his mouth and pulls down the thin material and sets his teeth into the thin skin, alternating between swipes of his tongue and firm kisses and nips.

 _Tease,_ Erik thinks.

 _Naturally._ The mark Charles leaves on him can be hidden so easily by the upturned collar of a jacket, or by a turtleneck, but it blooms so darkly he can feel it himself, pleasure-pain thrilling across Erik’s straining nerves.

Charles presses kisses all down the length of Erik’s spine, feels him buck up into every electrified contact, and when he gets to the small of Erik’s back he pushes the shirt roughly out of the way and just goes straight to biting – that gets him a groan that turns into a long drawn-out growl and Charles smiles against Erik’s skin, and pulls off his sleeping pants and underwear entirely.

Erik thinks he’s all skin and bones, whittled down to the absolute facsimile and image of a man.

Charles thinks rather the opposite, thinks that he’s beautiful, and sets out to prove it. Slow, languid movements: he moves down to the foot of the bed, gets his hands around one of Erik’s bare feet, and Erik growls and pulls it away and Charles takes it back, digging his thumbs into heel and sole and again there’s Erik’s _Please,_ so Charles presses a kiss over one ankle and repeats the treatment for the other foot.

_Better?_

_Yes, but too slow –_

_Slow is what you asked for. Only giving you what you need._

Erik is completely, sweetly pliant under Charles’s hands at last, when he’s done with the toned muscles of his calves and the strong lines of his arms, when he’s had his fill of looking at the impossible taper of Erik’s torso into his waist. Erik, who is still on his stomach, who is still willingly captive. Charles appreciates him, the strength of him and the impossible leap he’s taking now, giving over like this, and he ghosts up Erik’s body, presses a kiss to his temple. Sweat is beading in Erik’s hairline.

 _So damn beautiful,_ Charles thinks, and that’s when he reaches for the bedside drawer.

Erik moves beneath him, trying to get up on his hands and knees.

 _Please don’t,_ Charles says. _Not yet. We’ll do that, if that’s what you really want, but still not rushing._

This time when Erik responds, it’s not in words – Charles gets _frustration_ and a fierce blinding _want_ , and it feels so good, like needles pricking and prickling all over his already sensitive skin – so he responds to the spirit of the idea if not to the letter. Cool slick on his finger, rubbing into and around Erik’s hole. The grateful groan this gets him is like music to his ears.

Tight and hot around him when he pushes in his fingertip, and Erik hisses and keeps up a continuous stream of _Yesyesyes._ It’s no trouble to work him open. But Charles wants more and has a rare chance, and takes advantage: he pulls out and adds more slick, and slips two fingers in this time – and with them, his tongue.

_Charles – !_

_I’ve got you, I’ve got you, relax._

This time he does let Erik get up, supported on elbows and knees. Charles’s free hand wanders around the curve of Erik’s hip, dipping into the creases between thigh and groin and at last closing around the hot hard length of him, and Erik keens and rocks helplessly into the rhythm he sets up: slow. Controlled.

_Charles, please, oh –_

_Let me in,_ Charles says, and he feels Erik’s mind brushing against his, almost panicking in his haste to make contact, and Charles dives in and takes control of the pleasure centers, yanks Erik back down from his edge.

_You’re going to drive me insane._

_That was the plan._ Charles laughs when Erik rocks back. The surprise in Erik’s mind is almost completely clouded over with pleasure. _Oh, Erik,_ Charles thinks. _You have no idea how much I can do to you, **for** you, and I want it so much I could die, and – please,_ and it’s his turn to say it. To say it and mean it so desperately.

The answer he gets is nearly unintelligible, Erik’s thoughts running together in several languages but he gathers none of them can be repeated in polite company. He laughs and though Erik can’t see him he rolls his eyes and says, _Tell me?_

_Damn it, I – you – I want you to take me have me be with me give me what I need give you what you want –_

_Oh, **yes,**_ and Charles hisses and eases Erik back down onto his stomach. It’s a job to get out of his clothes and into position, because he’s shaking with need and Erik isn’t in any good shape either because he’s so eager and so ready, his thoughts singing wordlessly against Charles’s in a high keening note of _needneedneed_ and Charles gives the thought back, _yes_ and _Erik_ running together in his head as he slides in.

They shiver together for a long moment.

Erik thinks, _Please?_

Charles groans, and only just remembers – _slowslowIpromisedslow_ – and it’s sweet torture, it’s good pain, rocking together and angling to find Erik’s sweet spot, and the helpless whines that escape Erik’s throat.

 _So good,_ Erik thinks at last, _I can’t – it’s too much –_

 _There is no such thing,_ Charles growls, and again he dives into Erik’s mind, lighting him up, making him feel all of it, how they’re touching and how they’re moving and how good it all is, good enough to hurt, good enough to tear them both to pieces. They go on like this for a while, Erik getting more and more desperate beneath him.

When Charles is close he thinks, _Together, with me, come on come on Erik_ – and his reward is Erik’s voice, shouting at last and shattering the silence of the room. His name in Erik’s mouth, in Erik’s thoughts, thrumming down every last inch of his skin and overloaded nerves.

Sleep is an insidious threat and a delicious lure, after, but he manages to move Erik out of the wet spot, and he’s glad for the size of this bed because they’re still not going to be falling off.

He watches Erik struggle to open his eyes, watches him blink and look and smile, and Charles lets out the breath he hasn’t known he’s been holding.

 _That was – that was everything I didn’t know I wanted,_ Erik says. Slowly, still a little garbled around the edges, and Charles can feel the pleasure still shocking through him. Satisfaction and slow-creeping languor. _It was good._

There is a pause, and Charles opens his mouth, and then Erik finishes his train of thought. _Can we do that again?_

Charles’s thoughts evaporate with relief and a simple sweet happiness, and he moves closer and kisses Erik, full on the mouth, and Erik kisses him back readily. _Whenever you want. You only have to ask._

_Thank you, Charles._

When morning comes Charles is completely surrounded by Erik, held and caught and close, and Charles pulls him in, pulls at him, and waits for Erik’s waking.  



End file.
